A/N: Remus is done. The last four poems are reserved for our resident kitty.
SHAPESH_FTER
In time, he had forgotten
a great many things.
Three friends
who had taken on new faces
and forms for him.
A woman
who'd smiled, hugged, and then scolded
him in turn.
A headmaster
who had brought him home
with open arms.
And now, others doing the same
and he couldn't help that tears
ran down those old wounds
Because they still ached and prodded
and were shamed
but the way they smiled and yelled at him
made him think: that face of his
was no worse after all.